


Boy in a Red Coat

by zoke



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Thieves, Art, Artists, Heist, Jongin’s Birthday Week 2021, M/M, painter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29658882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoke/pseuds/zoke
Summary: Art thief Kim Jongin is enlisted to steal a newly discovered 19thcentury painting.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Kim Minseok | Xiumin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 16
Collections: Challenge #14 — We Artist Baby!





	Boy in a Red Coat

**Author's Note:**

> biggest thanks to w for beta'ing

A canvas covered in dull greens and browns, drawing the eye to the splash of bright red in the center.

Jongin looks at the painting before him, a flood of emotions drowning him like a dilapidated dam finally breaking free. A phantom hand wraps around his heart and squeezes, blood draining and clogging his throat until it's hard to breathe. 

The figure in the painting, clad in a red coat, looks back at him with a coy smile, thick lips, soft, brown eyes.

Through teary eyes, Jongin stares at the painting, like he's staring into a mirror.

*

"I'm in."

The harness is tight and secure around Jongin's waist as he lowers himself down the nylon rope. The faint moonlight that filters through the under-repair skylight above him illuminates his way down to the first floor.

"Good," crackles from Jongin's comm. "You've got fifteen minutes 'til the guards make their next rounds."

Unfastening himself from the harness, Jongin makes his way to the west wing, past the trillions of wons worth of cultural artifacts.

He's only here for one thing.

*

"This is boring," whines Jongin as he lounges on the armchair.

"Patience," chides Minseok from where he's nursing his third cup of coffee.

Jongin watches Minseok, zeroes in on the way his pink lips press against the edge of the cup, black liquid pouring into his mouth. "Will we meet again?"

Minseok's distracted, savouring his coffee. "Mm?"

"Will I see you again," repeats Jongin, "after the job is complete?"

Minseok looks up, this time. "Depends."

"On what?"

The smile on Minseok's face is faint, perhaps a little sad, like he's somewhere else, lost in a distant memory of a time long gone. "If you remember."

*

"Hyung --" Jongin startles, quickly turning to face the other way as he opens the door to a very much topless Minseok. Thick, muscled arms, water dripping down a naked chest...

"Yes, Jongin?" greets Minseok, always composed.

"I bought some pulleys for the job," he mumbles.

"Jongin, turn around."

Jongin finally turns around.

Minseok -- shirt on -- is holding a red sweater. "Got you this in your favourite colour."

Jongin drops the pulleys on the table, giggling as Minseok pulls the sweater over his head, tousling Jongin's hair right after. "How do you know my favourite colour?"

Minseok smiles, secretive. "A little birdie visited me in my dreams."

*

"What about payment?"

Jongin's been coming here a lot lately. Minseok lets him sit on his favourite armchair.

"What's the largest sum you've received?"

Jongin's eyes narrow. "Why?"

Minseok grins, cheeky. "I'll pay double."

Jongin's incredulous. "I wasn't born yesterday."

Minseok shrugs. "You know my face. You know where I live. I'll be right here, with the money."

*

"We operate on Chuseok."

"Chuseok isn't until five months."

"The skylight is set to be renovated in five months. Most of the staff will be on vacation, so that leaves us with two guards tops. You'll climb up from the side, enter from the top. The renovation will render the alarm inoperative. Painting's in the west wing, first floor. You'll bring a pulley with you and go out the same way you got in." Minseok sits back, relaxed against the armchair. "Questions?"

Jongin huffs. "How do I steal something I've never seen before?"

Minseok smiles. He does that a lot. "You'll know."

*

Jongin has never once been asked to meet a client at their own house.

"Minseok?" asks Jongin when he's greeted at the doorstep.

The young man smiles, handsome. "Jongin," he says, in the same sweet voice. "Come in."

The house is furnished. Lived in, even, with framed photos scattered throughout, an owner's personality in the freakishly neat placement of furnitures.

Minseok retrieves two mugs from a cupboard, placing one of them on the coffee machine. "Drinks?"

"Oh, I don't --"

"Maybe hot chocolate?"

Jongin blinks. Minseok's looking at him, watching like he can see right through him, like he's known Jongin forever. "Yes. Thank you."

*

Calls to Jongin's burner phone are few and far between. So when the phone rings one morning, he assumes the caller knows what they want from him.

"How can I help you?"

"Turn on the news," says a sweet, amiable voice from the speaker.

"You've got the wrong number."

"Turn on the news," repeats the caller.

Jongin obliges.

"... _never-before-seen painting by the renowned nineteenth century artist Xiumin has recently been discovered. Requests to reveal the artwork to the public has been rejected in favour of displaying it at the National Museum, where visitors can appreciate it for free_..."

There's a smile in the caller's voice: "I want you to steal it for me."

*

"This is boring," whines Kai as he stands in Lord Xiumin's drawing room, red coat heavy on his back.

"Patience, darling," chides Lord Xiumin, eyes on his canvas.

Kai watches his lord, zeroes in on the way his lips press together in concentration, shiny and wet and pink.

"You are taking too long."

"Patience."

"Perhaps you should look closer."

Lord Xiumin's eyes snap up at that, gaze darkening, enticed.

The seconds that tick down as the lord approaches feels like an eternity.

"Perhaps I _will_ look closer," says Lord Xiumin once they're face-to-face. He swipes a thumb over Kai's bottom lip, smearing bright red over skin.

When they kiss, Kai doesn't taste paint. Just a drop of sweet, a hint of salt, the overwhelming bitterness of coffee.

*

"My lord."

"Yes, darling?" Minseok turns, eyes wide and surprised -- at the title, or the endearment, or both.

Jongin can't feel his hands even as they grip the frame of the painting. "I have the painting."

Minseok sighs, wet and shuddery. He's not looking at the painting. "You remember it too."

Jongin's been so foolish, so blind, so... "Yes."

"I see you in my dreams, every night, I see you, and I..."

Minseok closes the gap between them in a flash, and the kiss -- lips against lips, hands pulling at hair, fingers clawing in fabric -- tastes like everything Jongin has ever wanted, desired, _longed for_.

**Author's Note:**

> [reference](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1972_Montreal_Museum_of_Fine_Arts_robbery)
> 
> fic title is the name of the painting :)


End file.
